Maybe, Someday
by Nasu Hasami
Summary: When silence and indifference becomes the heart of their relationship can they pick up the pieces and move on, or has it all fallen apart: too hard to rebuild, and too broken to mend. Modern AU. Chibiusa and Helios.


**Maybe, Someday**

**By Nasu Hasami**

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><p>"<em>In silence I grieve, that thy heart could forget, thy spirit deceive."<em>

_Byron_

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><p>There was a strangled silence between them. It was awkward and anomalous and had become so distinct, so integral to their relationship, without it there would have been nothing, now. The bitterness, the animosity, even the isolation paled in comparison to their silence. It had become its own entity — an entire being all of itself — so much so, that, at some point, neither of them realised that their silence — their indifference — had usurped the thrown, and crowned itself as the centre of their relationship.<p>

Then, one day, it was the only thing that was left, the only thing they had in common. Their silence was the only thing connecting them to each other and their world. Neither of them spoke or even contested the stillness, it was just there, bejewelled and enthroned; laughing and mocking, dancing its way and weaving its web; taking pleasure in the quiet that was so loud, so unanimous and so very, very magniloquent.

It offered everything that was needed, desired, and sought after. It was the perfection and consecration of their passion and ardour all wrapped up in the sounds of a static television channel, the rustling of a newspaper or the whistle of a boiling kettle. It was nothing and it was everything. It was yesterday, and today, and tomorrow; it was the last ten years and the next ten years to come.

And then it stopped. It stopped because he got tired, and he stopped, and he listened, and he heard nothing. No screaming, no crying, no whispers of love, no promises of forever — nothing — just silence: quiet, unassuming silence.

So, he waited, and he watched, and he feared breaking the silence and shattering what they had. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow came and they all passed into the stillness that had surrounded them for so long. Still, Helios remained unmoving. But then, eventually when the days and nights blurred into static and rustling he quietly made his way into their garage and retrieved the ragged leather suitcases he hadn't used in ten years and packed his things.

He folded his shirts and his trousers; emptied his half of their wardrobe and vacuumed the flooring where his shoes had lived. He dusted his books and the shelves where they had rested and he packed them away, carrying them out box by box to the garage. He didn't touch the framed wedding photos, or the trinkets haphazardly strewn about their house or the love letters she'd written him so long ago. He removed the gold band he'd never taken off and placed it next to a crystal bowl they'd never used, leaning against the mantelpiece briefly as he wondered why he was doing what he was about to do, but never really questioning it.

Serenity shifted from her position at the other end of the room and light flickered across the crystal bowl, rainbows briefly danced across the walls behind him and he recalled the dreams they once shared.

She seemed so far away, as though she was on the other side of the world, but she wasn't, she was all of fifteen feet away, her back turned, her headphones on as she stood in front of her canvas. Her hair was longer then he remembered, lighter too, maybe there were a few silvery strands in there now. He sighed once more, hand gripped around the last suitcase so tightly his knuckles had blanched white. He dropped his house keys into the bowl, they chipped the edge and made a light tinkering noise, and still, she didn't move, didn't turn and didn't face him. He slipped the duplicate key to his Audi off her key ring and walked out the front door, determined not to look back.

Helios didn't turn as he walked down those steps: those three colourful steps Serenity had made into a flamboyant mosaic their first summer together, in that house. He didn't turn back as he stepped onto the lawn that he mowed last Tuesday, and he didn't look back when he opened his car door and threw his last suitcase onto the passenger seat.

But he did when he sat down and he just stared into the house in front of him. The house he had shared with the women he had once been so desperately in love with. He started the ignition and still she hadn't moved. He could see her silhouette through the gossamer curtains they had picked out together all those years ago; still facing that canvas, still oblivious, still uncaring.

He switched the radio on as he pulled out of the driveway; it automatically went to her favourite station. The car stalled. Her SUV was still in the garage and she'd gone to buy more oils that afternoon; she'd taken his car. He turned the radio off and sat there, steering his way out of their street, out of their neighbourhood, and out of their town.

His head was throbbing, a thousand thoughts blending as one, deafening him with an exhausting white noise. When he reached the freeway he pulled over and started thumping the steering wheel with his palms, striking it as if he could silence the noise raging inside him; swearing and screaming and yelling and seething and crying and shouting.

It hurt. The nothingness hurt. The emptiness hurt. The silence hurt. Then he saw them through his teary eyes: the cheery box of tissues with pink kittens and blue bubbles and yellow clouds all over them. Helios pressed down the window and threw the damned box as far as he could. It reminded him of her: the laugh he hadn't heard in so long; the smile he hadn't seen in years; the ruby eyes that never danced at the sight of him anymore. He punched the glove box and the door swung open with a brutal clunk. He reached for the purple vinyl address book and threw it out the window too, then the white phone charger and the pile of coloured napkins that she'd doodled on and collected over the years. All of them went out the window, onto the highway, and scattered, eventually, smashed into the asphalt. He threw out the pillows and the blankets that were always on the backseat, the picnic rug that was always in the boot, and the directory manuals that she'd accumulated, the ones that sat snugly in the pockets of the passenger seat door. He yelled and screamed as he viciously attacked them, not caring, or hearing the traffic that passed by, swerving at, or away from the crazed man in the grey suit kicking the tires of his blue A4. He clambered back in when his mind had calmed a little, started up the car again, and shoved the closest CD into the CD player. He turned on the air-conditioning and wound down all the windows when he thought he could smell the fragrance of vanilla and peaches. His eyes were still teary as he drove up the freeway and headed north, not caring where he was going, just driving until he ran out of gas, then he'd decide what he was going to do and where he was going to stay. Even if it meant he had to sleep in his car on a road in the middle of nowhere. Anywhere was better than here, better than the nothingness that was left in a house with orange steps in a neighbourhood of bad memories in a city he'd rather forget.

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><p>Serenity slipped the headphones off when her mouth went dry. She'd finished off the Riesling a while ago now and wanted something a little stronger. She'd dripped and spattered paint onto the floorboards and carpets for years so when she stepped onto a discarded tube that squeezed a curl of oily ultramarine blue into the carpet she didn't think much on the matter. She stepped over it and headed to the kitchen where she stared at their wine rack. Helios made her that wine rack, years ago; back when they were young and playful and oh-so-in-love and well drunk, most of the time. It was different now. They were mature and grown-up and sober, at least one of them was anyway. She shrugged her thoughts off as she reached for a dusty bottle of cabernet sauvignon. It was a vintage bottle, a wedding gift that had never been opened. They had planned to pop the cork on their tenth wedding anniversary, which had been in all respects, a promise forgotten long ago.<p>

She swung the bottle up onto the counter and poured herself a glass. She didn't call out to her husband. Even if he came out of their bedroom or his study she wouldn't have offered him a glass — he probably wouldn't even want it anyway — he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol in the last six years. Not since he'd been offered Tenure anyway.

She sipped the dark liquid as she changed the CD and admired her work. She believed it could very well be her best piece yet, all black and frenzied and colourful. It was like staring into a muddied pond and watching the surface morph into a beautiful, hypnotising rainbow. She didn't bother voicing her pleasure to her husband, God forbid she disturb him from his brooding. Helios's thoughts and opinions didn't matter anymore. He always mumbled the same thing: "Beautiful", "Charming", "Elegant", even the occasional "Astounding". But he never looked at the artworks when he commented, his head stuck in a novel or a newspaper, sometimes the National Geographic or Time magazine. Or he was too busy marking papers, on the phone to his colleagues and graduate students. He didn't care, didn't want to know about her work, her love or her painting. She put her heart into the pictures she drew and the works she created, but he didn't care, there was always something more interesting to look at, something more…_not her_.

Serenity's eyes flared as she stared at the painting. She swiped her long nails across it, hearing the fabric stretch and tear. She smiled into the messy lines that ruined the once perfect image, it was better now, now that it was real. She left it like that: broken, torn, and damaged. She left the canvas looking a lot like she left herself.

She unplugged the headphones and turned the volume up. Screw the neighbours and their dogs; screw the kids across the street; screw her pathetic excuse for a husband who was probably snoring upstairs right now. She'd sleep in the guest room tonight. She snorted at the thought of him noticing her absence; he probably had some young, blonde piece on the side that satisfied _his_ needs anyway. Some student that hung on his every word, like she herself had once done. Helios probably had some twenty-year-old loving him like she herself had once done.

Their marriage was a farce. They hadn't eaten together in years, rarely slept together, and never spoke anymore. She wiped her paint covered fingers on the pristine white curtains hanging on the living room window. They'd picked them out together years ago, smiling and laughing and giggling as they looked at fabrics holding hands and sharing enraptured glances. A smirk spread across her lips at the sight. Finally there was some colour in their living room! She turned the stereo off after jumping around the hallway and the staircase, spilling wine and creating general chaos, hoping she'd wake the man she referred to as her husband in title only. Dogs howled and children cried in the distance but a livid man didn't march down the stairs and yell at her. So, she slunk off to the room she'd been sleeping in for most of the last four years, stripped down and climbed into the bed, which was in essence, the only bed she slept in within the house she called home. No sooner was she lying down was she tormented with a restless sleep. But she refused to get out of that bed; refused to walk up stairs and slither into a warm, soft bed; refused to talk to the man she shared a house with for over a decade. He wasn't worth it. Not anymore.

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><p>The Audi spluttered to a stop while he was westbound on the 89. He wasn't entirely sure where he was and didn't particularly care either. He locked the car and lowered the seat, he was happy enough to sleep there for the night. Hopefully, in the morning, someone would pull over and help him get some gas.<p>

Sleep, however, was the last thing on his mind as he lay back with his arms under his head staring at the grey fabric ceiling. Serenity was all cosy in her room downstairs probably. She couldn't even stand sleeping with him anymore; he assumed it was because she had another lover, a new partner. That would make it easier if it was true. It wouldn't hurt him as much. But it did. Maybe, he admitted, it hurt more, imagining her holding another man's hand, sharing her mind and soul with another man, moaning another man's name as he offered her what he couldn't — what she didn't want from him — what she hadn't wanted from him for years. Then those tears, those damned tears returned as vivid images of his wife, the woman of his dreams, made love with another man.

There was no intimacy left in their relationship — if it could even be called that — all they had was silence. And at that moment that's all he could hear, crickets chirping and engines humming as cars drove past. He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and stared at the screen. What he'd give to hear her voice, for her to ask him where he was and if he could come home. For her to say that she's missed him, that she was more frightened then she'd ever been in her life when she heard his car back out of the drive way, noticed his things were gone or packed into the garage. But she wouldn't, because she hadn't called yet, and he'd been gone for hours now. She hadn't left a message, and, probably, hadn't even noticed that he was gone. Maybe she wouldn't notice at all.

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><p>Serenity's eyes blinked open when the malicious sunlight was pouring through the windows trying to blind her, instantly rousing her from her erratic slumber. She dragged herself out of bed and made herself a coffee. The wine was still on the counter, otherwise the kitchen was clean. But Helios was always fastidious to the point of ridiculousness. She forced the cork back on the bottle and placed it in the door of the fridge as she pulled the milk out. She mixed the caffeinated elixir and gulped it down as she stood at the kitchen counter rubbing her tired eyes. When she finished she dumped the cup in the sink and hauled herself up the stairs into their bedroom to get a fresh change of clothes and take a shower. She wasn't surprised to see the bed made, or the overturned photo frames on the bedside table still overturned. But she laughed the bitter, cold, painful laugh of a scorned woman when she noticed there was only her clothing in their closet. It seemed the bastard was doing his own laundry separately now, God forbid her germs rub off on his clothing, or maybe there really was another woman. Maybe there was a woman that had given him a drawer or some wardrobe space. Maybe there were lipstick marks and other, unidentifiable stains left on his pressed shirts and fancy suits he didn't want his wife to see.<p>

Maybe, he kept more than a drawer of spare clothing at her place. She didn't want to admit it but it hurt knowing there was yet another wedge separating them, drawing them further and further apart. Another thing to remind her of what they had been once and what they were now, and how that the now wasn't happy, or pretty or anything like she had dreamed and hoped it would be.

Her mind wandered to happier times as she stood in the shower washing her hair. They'd been so passionate, so devoted, so _in love_ all those years ago. She'd wait all week just to have to drive all night to meet up with him in Cambridge on Saturday morning. They'd have breakfast and talk for hours about their weeks and about school and university. They'd talk about her parents, about his 'Jock' dorm mate and the never ending string of girls that waited outside their room on the off chance Peri would speak to them. They'd laugh about the courses he hated and the teachers she begrudged, and then they'd walk around the city together, and watch a movie or he'd take her out for dinner and a drink. Sometimes they'd drive to the coast in his run down Cadillac, and spend the night together on the backseat with the top down, just staring at the stars holding hands. Sometimes, when they'd had too much to drink, they'd stagger to the nearest hotel and book a room together, and not waste a single minute of their time alone.

Now, they were just alone — they were together — but they were really alone. They lived in the same house, under the same roof, even slept in the same bed, occasionally, but they weren't together anymore. They were each alone, well, she was at least. And as much as it hurt, as much as she'd curled in on herself, and was in a ball in the corner of the shower, her long hair cascading around her, she refused to cry. Crying was weak. That meant him and his blonde hussy had won.

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><p>At 5 AM there was a heavy tap on the tinted window, an officer in a tan uniform standing outside, the sunrise glowing from behind her. Having not slept a wink, he'd noticed her when she was approaching the car in the rear-view mirror. Helios explained that his car had broken down, that he was in a rush to get to a conference in Burlington. She explained that there was a gas station a "little ways back" and offered to drive him there.<p>

As they drove along the officer prattled on as if she'd known him for years. Her shift had just about ended and she couldn't wait to get home and see her husband and their two kids. He just nodded politely and offered the occasional small smile. She had no idea who he was, but was talking to him as though he were her long lost friend. It was strange almost how this woman that didn't know him was more interested in sharing her life with him than the woman he'd abandoned back home. It was strange.

But he wasn't that strange, not really. Not when he considered that he was just a thirty seven year old man that had run away from his wife — his wife of ten years — his wife with soft skin and tender eyes that no longer wanted anything to do with him. He'd run for a reason. And this incessantly talking stranger had said more words to him in the forty minutes it took to get to and from his car, and fill it back up than that same wife had in the last five years.

He waved the officer off as she drove by, heading along the same road he would be once he had pulled his thoughts together. He'd told her he was headed to South Burlington because now he could see — now that it wasn't pitch black and 3 AM — he could see that he was just outside of Willston. But he didn't really know if he wanted to head to South Burlington, and he wasn't really sure what he was going to do once he arrived there. Then he remembered the woman that in all likelihood hated him and he started the ignition and drove straight to the domestic airport. He'd just leave his car there with the suitcase sitting on the passenger seat, get on the first available flight to New York. He'd even leave the damn keys in the ignition.

The neon lights of the flashing arrival and departure times seemed like a precursor, like a catalyst that signified the end of the world to him. He'd left his wife, his house, and his car behind, and now, he was about to leave the country. His eyes glazed over as he watched the methodical rerun of domestic flights: _Chicago, Cleveland, Detroit, Newark, New York, Orlando, Philadelphia and Washington_. He walked over to the counter, his small suitcase in his hand and booked the first cancelled seat they offered him, departing in half an hour. He'd book a flight to wherever he was headed once he got to New York. Which wouldn't take that long, a few hours and he'd be there. So he took a seat and waited beside the well-dressed business men and excited teenagers that should have been at school, or getting ready for it. He checked his phone again. There were still no messages or missed calls, surely if she was going to notice she would have by now.

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><p>She had dressed and brushed her teeth and cleaned out the fridge and mopped the floor by lunch time. She'd called a carpet cleaner about the stains in the floor, and booked a critter catcher to get the squirrel she was certain was living in the ceiling. She'd disposed of the horrible painting she'd mutilated the evening before, and taken down the curtains she'd destroyed in her melancholia. She'd thrown out her heavy metal CDs and poured the half-drunk bottle of scotch she kept hidden in the guest room down the sink. She'd written out a shopping list and was intending to buy some new crystal wear. She'd ordered some roses for the living room and was going to shop around for a nice bright set of curtains while she was in town. She deleted the three messages that were on the answering machine without listening to them and grabbed the keys to her SUV on her way out. She flicked through the radio stations for a minute then, when she was happy with her choice, backed out of the driveway, noticing that something looked different, but she wasn't sure what it was. Briefly, she wondered if the back wall of the garage had always had so many boxes stacked up against it.<p>

She mulled around a couple of supermarkets before driving across town and mulling through a few more, then returned home to refill the fridge and pack away all the food goods. She was intending to cook lemon pepper squid for dinner that night, it was Helios's favourite, and she hadn't attempted it since nearly burning their house down eight years ago. At least that experience had given them an excuse to remodel the kitchen. They had joked about it for months afterwards, her nearly burning their house down. Serenity found herself smiling at the memory as she pulled into the driveway. When she unlocked the house, she noticed something weird about her keys but dismissed the thought after glancing at them. Propping open the door she headed back out to the car and started the arduous task of lugging the groceries inside, and the even more dreadful task of packing everything away.

She fidgeted with the pantry cupboard and moved two of the shelves in the fridge but eventually everything fitted. She poured herself a glass of water and stared out the kitchen window as she drank it. She'd have to ring a repair guy to fix the dilapidated section of the old fence she'd painted. Two of the psychedelic palings had nearly completely disintegrated and a third was well on its way to joining them. She poured the remainder of the water down the sink and walked back out the door, not noticing the new message blinking on the answering machine.

She drove back into the city and walked into the same upholstery boutique that she'd bought the now ruined gossamer curtains from with Helios not long after they were married. She was glad the elderly woman who owned the store didn't recognise her. That gave her the freedom to just peruse throughout the fabrics without being asked about her husband. Helios had always liked plain colours, so much of their house was shades of white, from bone to antique to ashen to pallid, and it seemed like a never ending wave of passive-aggressive nausea to Serenity. She loved pinks and blues and golds; rich colours and rich fabrics with rich finishes. So when she picked out an embroidered jacquard fabric that was labelled 'cerise' with a dashing gold trim she was rather jubilant about the whole thing. She'd tried to keep reminding herself that they were just curtains. But the excitement didn't pass because they weren't just curtains. They were beautiful, bright, exquisite curtains. But most of all, they were _her_ curtains.

She went on a bit of a spending bender after she'd ordered the curtains and bought luxuriant throw rugs and lavish embossed cushions that would match her new rich décor. She topped the entire excursion off by purchasing an intricately designed Persian rug for their living room floor, and when she started to feel guilty she reminded herself that they had the money. Hell, if it was there why not spend it?

Besides, if Helios didn't notice his precious, flawless, lounge room had been turned into a Turkish Bizarre, there really was nothing left. For the second time that day she was back on the road heading home, thinking about the way things could have been, and should have been and the way they seemed to be. She allowed her mind to entertain the thought that somewhere, there was a twenty-something-year-old college student that straddled her husband whenever he wanted it. Tonight, she thought, he was going to learn different wasn't he.

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><p>It was almost 7:30 PM that night when Helios finally nodded off. He had boarded the flight for France a couple of hours ago and was well on his way out of the disaster his life had become. The in-flight movie was some eccentric romantic comedy from some obscure film festival. Helios had watched it for a while, but had swiftly become disinterested after his martini arrived. He'd turned his phone off at midday, a few hours after he'd dumped his car. Someone from his workplace had tried contacting him as had the DMV. He assumed his secretary wanted to know why he wasn't in, and frankly, concern for employment was the furthest thing from his mind at present. He'd also assumed his car had been stolen, which he thanked God for, praying that it brought the thief better luck then it ever offered him. The four Martini's he'd downed in the first hour of the flight didn't adversely affect his exhausted state either, in fact, they were probably what was responsible for the comatose body in business class, seat 2B of the Boeing 747 that was snoring rather pretentiously.<p>

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><p>Serenity leant against the side table as she hit the delete button on the answering machine. Apparently the message had been from a woman at the DMV in Swanton, Vermont, informing her that her husband's car had been found near the Canadian border with flat tires and a smashed windscreen. She scoffed at the prank call before deleting it. There was absolutely no reason why Helios's car would be in Vermont, and even less for it to be in Swanton. Her only logical explanation was that it was a prank call. Her husband was a university lecturer, prank calls were part and parcel of that career.<p>

She meandered into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of the red she'd been drinking the night before as she prepared dinner. She checked her watch and put on a Rachmaninov CD, humming along to the sorrowful tune as the squid simmered without catching alight and bursting into flames. She'd set the table and checked her watch again. It was well past eight, and Helios was usually home before seven. She shrugged it off as having an impromptu evening class, which did happen occasionally, and lovingly wrapped his food in cling wrap and popped it in the fridge. She finished off the wine, ate her dinner, and was in bed, her own bed, not the guest room bed before ten o'clock. She was completely exhausted as she'd barely slept at all the previous night. Within minutes she fell into a dreamless sleep that was heavy, sweetly revitalising and very much needed.

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><p>It was showing twelve o'clock on Helios's wristwatch when the brunette flight attendant shook him and spoke in French, quite urgently. He figured they were landing and propped his seat into the correct position. She smiled and went back to the front of the cabin. He had been hopeful for a moment that the plane was crashing, careening off course, and landing somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. In his Sadist fantasy there would be no survivors, or everyone would survive except him, and there wouldn't be enough left to identify his body. They'd just have to go by the evidence of his VISA bill, and the fact he was the only passenger that couldn't be found. Serenity would probably be happy if that happened. There wouldn't be a divorce settlement and countless trips to court and papers signed; no meetings with counsellors or mediators. Just a funeral, then he'd be gone from her life and she could move on with her new lover. And then he realised he was thinking more than fleeing temporarily or running away: he was thinking about leaving Serenity for good. He was thinking about divorce.<p>

The passengers dispersed and ran off to the arrivals terminal, running into the arms of their loved ones. But not Professor Helios Fielding, he dragged himself through arrivals with his carry on and out the front of the airport to hail a taxi. He was grateful the driver spoke English and just asked for the nearest hotel. The driver must have noticed his clothing because he dropped him off in front of a historic looking brick building with the words "Radisson Blu" emblazoned out the front. He struggled his way through misunderstandings and language barriers at reception, but managed to somehow acquire a room and handed over his card to be swiped for the umpteenth time that day and dragged his sorry ass towards the elevator. He didn't care what time it was in Paris. He didn't care what time it was at all. He just wanted to be left alone. And he wanted to sleep.

* * *

><p>Serenity woke to the sound of an incessantly ringing telephone. She glanced at the alarm clock that read 9:4 AM and rolled over to see an empty bed. She sighed into the pillow as the phone kept ringing. Eventually, when it didn't stop, she dragged herself across to Helios's side and retrieved the handset. It was his secretary, Rory or whatever her name was. Amidst the panic Serenity extracted the fact that Helios was absent again today, and that he hadn't been in yesterday either. The office had also received a call from the DMV in Swanton, Vermont. They'd found his car dumped on the 89 just outside of Swanton with an empty tank, in the same condition as she recalled from the evening before: flat tires, smashed windshield. Serenity just sat there as the middle aged woman prattled on and on. She'd curled her legs up under her arms and began sobbing. Helios had taken his blonde and headed to Canada with her. His secretary thought he was dead, and the department Dean wanted to know when he'd be back, if he was coming back. She hung up the receiver and clutched her mobile, shakily opening the text message function and typing a single message to her estranged husband, knowing he probably wouldn't respond. That would be it, her last words to him, "<em>where are you<em>?" And he wouldn't care, wouldn't even bother telling her.

Maybe, he'd have a new phone and wouldn't even get the message.

* * *

><p>Helios shoved his head further into the comforter when his phone buzzed and fell off the bedside table where it had been charging. The afternoon sun was pouring through the open curtains of the wall sized windows of his exuberant suite, and he considered that (not his phone) to be the reason why he dragged himself out of bed, he merely picked his phone up off the floor because he was already out of bed. It buzzed again in his hand so he flipped the screen open. He had six messages and four missed calls. The calls were all from his secretary, as were five of the messages. But the message that was staring him in the face was from his wife. It was simple. Rather, it should have been simple. But it wasn't. It was complicated.<p>

She didn't say she was worried, she didn't say that she missed him and that she wanted him home desperately. She just wanted to know where he was. But there wasn't an exclamation mark, and it wasn't all in capitals. She was just angry, but she wasn't furious, or did she just not care anymore? Helios nimbly replied, "_What does it matter_," and sent it through before typing, "_I think I want a divorce_" and hitting the send button again. And he sat there, on the edge of a king sized bed with cotton sheets in his boxer shorts in the most romantic city in the world, telling his wife that he thought he wanted a divorce, waiting for her reply, which was almost instant.

Then in big, thick capitals it said,

"_I CARE BECAUSE I'M YOUR WIFE! WHERE THE HELL R U?_" and not a moment later "_WHO THE FUCK IS SHE? DO I KNOW HER?_"

So he sent the simplest reply he could. He told her that there wasn't anyone and told her that it didn't matter where he was, the only thing that mattered was that he thought she'd be happier this way.

His phone rang as soon as he sent the message through. Serenity's name was displayed on the screen. He let the voicemail get it. And again when it rang and again and again. But when it rang the eighth time he considered answering, by the eleventh call he did.

'Could you stop calling please, I'm tired and I'd like to get some sleep,' he sighed.

'You're tired. Too tired to talk to me, your wife? You're with _her_ aren't you?' Serenity's voice was hostile and agitated.

'I'm not _with_ anyone Serenity. I'm alone, in a hotel room, somewhere far, far away from you. And as for the talking, I didn't think it mattered anymore. We haven't spoken for years. What's the point? We don't even love each other anymore, not the way we did years ago.' Helios cleared his throat, laid down on the bed and stared at the ceiling, correcting himself. 'You don't love me anymore, and you haven't for a long time. I think we should just get a divorce and leave it at that!'

He could hear her yelp and start sobbing when he said divorce. He thought he heard her whisper I do love you, but he claimed it was his imagination, because she wouldn't say that. She hated him. He only wanted her to say that. In reality, she wouldn't.

After a pregnant pause Serenity gushed into the phone. 'I _boughtnewcurtains_,' she tried lamely, attempting to change the subject and trying, actually trying to talk to her husband.

'I'm sorry, I don't understand. Did you say "are you with a man"? I'm not gay Serenity. I've just had enough of the silence and the nothingness. I could handle the arguing, but not that. And it was all we had left. Look, I'm really tired. I've been on a long flight and I need sleep — '

'You went on a flight? You're not even in the country are you? God, Helios! You're not going to make this easy are you. So that's why your fucking car was in Vermont.'

'Serenity, I'm going to call a lawyer in the morning and start sorting this thing out. We tried. We tried for ten years. I think it's time we said enough is enough.' Then there was a pause, the most god-awful pause in the entire universe; the same silent irreverence that happens before an impending car crash, and then he said those words again, more confidently, more certain, more determined. 'I want a divorce!' Helios hung up and turned his phone off.

* * *

><p>Serenity crumpled into a ball on the floor when her phone went silent. He hated her. He couldn't bear to be around her anymore. He didn't want her in his life. He just wanted to be alone in, wherever, he was. She pulled herself together enough to walk down the stairs and make a cup of coffee and ring her father.<p>

Dr Shields was furious when he heard the story from his daughter. After the rage passed, he was outraged and incredibly distressed. He jumbled a lot of his words together but promised Serenity he'd be there as soon as he could. And he was, along with her mother and her teenage sister less than four hours later.

Her father — a renowned surgeon and extremely intimidating man — was more confused than anything else – that is – after his anger subsided. He stated over and over again that he didn't understand how it could have all fallen apart so quickly, that they had looked fine at Christmas. Then his wife pointed out they hadn't come home for Christmas in nearly five years, and Serenity candidly admitted she couldn't remember how long ago Helios and her last made love. As her father paced the living room floor her mother leant against the mantle, noticing the black and silver shimmer in the crystal bowl, and the ring sitting next to it.

Truthfully, they were all hoping that somehow, this was just a lovers spat that had taken a very dramatic turn, that at any minute Helios would turn up in his Audi and walk in the door, apologising for causing such a commotion. But when Serenity's mother extricated the keys and Helios's wedding band from next to the bowl, Serenity's sobs turned into hysterical pleas.

The ring had been there long enough for a faint dust mark to shadow its shape.

She was sorry and she was hurting and she was wounded and she was confused and she was in pain. She didn't think he was serious, not her Helios. He sprouted words of love and devotion, he whispered with ardour, and he still lovingly called her, "his maiden" or he did the last time she remembered him calling her that, even if that was years ago. He didn't despondently mumble phrases like, "enough is enough" and "I want a divorce".

Serenity collapsed for the third time that morning, crying and shouting, and fighting against the space that separated her from her husband. Fighting against the silence and the space had made its place between them. She wanted to know where she'd gone so wrong, wanted to know why it hurt so much. She wanted to know how long ago he'd taken off his wedding band and why she'd never noticed. She wanted Helios to hold her, wanted to feel his warmth surrounding her, smell his scent and whisper his name. She wanted him there with her, by her side. Her sister didn't feel the same. It was comfort but it was empty and hard compared to the arms of the man she loved. Then she wailed his name, at the top of her lungs, and chanted "but I still love you" over and over and over. Maybe, she hoped it would bring him back to her. Though, maybe, it just soothed the pain.

Her mother was crouched before her and her sister pulled her arms tighter around her and still she didn't care, it just felt so incredibly cold. She was being shushed and cuddled but all she felt compelled to do was screaming, and maybe if she was loud enough, strong enough, he'd hear her and come home. Maybe, he'd be there and burst in the front doors and throw his arms around her.

But he wouldn't, because he wouldn't hear her, and even if he could, he probably wouldn't come. He wouldn't come because he hated her — because he didn't want her anymore — because he wanted a divorce.

The greying man pacing the living room pulled his phone out of his pocket and rang his son-in-law. He wasn't expecting the phone to be answered, so when the ring tone only repeated itself twice before a shy and raspy "hello" was whispered into the phone he was taken aback a little. Then he stepped outside the house when his daughters voice reached an excruciating pitch, to which there was an "is she okay" spoken a little louder, and in a slightly panicked intonation. And even, just maybe, if Endymion dared to believe it, there was the smallest hint of concern in his son-in-law's voice.

'No, she's not.' Endymion Shields stated dryly — and she wasn't — she was as far from okay as she could have been. Her husband had just told her he wanted to end it all, and she was hurting and crying and hysterical and afraid.

'I'm sorry. I thought this would be for the best.' Helios voice was laced with exhaustion and emotion. But still, there was a quiet despondence when he wasn't speaking, an isolation that had drawn a line between him and the rest of the world.

'You thought wrong.' The doctor's voice rumbled through a sigh, 'Where are you, Helios? I know it was a long flight. Beijing, Singapore…Amsterdam?'

'Paris,' it was a whisper, nearly a chuckle, but Endymion heard it. And he laughed a tender, amused laugh that echoed through the phone.

'You rang your wife from _Paris_ and told her you're divorcing her? Are you all right?' His voice was soft and gentle: he loved his son-in-law dearly, and he didn't want Helios to think anything otherwise, regardless of whatever the reason was, until a divorce was finalised, if that indeed was the outcome, he was still his father-in-law, and he suspected that the young man needed someone at the moment. The loneliness that embodied his voice was hard to ignore.

'To be honest, I was hoping the plane would crash while flying over the ocean. I thought about how hard it would be to slit my wrists with a plastic, disposable razor, or jump off the suit room balcony. I wondered how much liquor from the mini bar would be needed to drink myself into oblivion.

'It was hard, there, in that God damn awful silence for the last five years. She never heard me when I called out to her anymore. She'd flinch when I'd touch or caress her. She'd drink all night and spend all day in bed in the guest room only to wake in the afternoon, put her headphones on and smear paint all over canvases completely ignoring me.

'If I spoke she didn't hear it. If I talked to her she never responded, and when I wanted to make love she just ignored me completely. She'd turn the volume up and smile at her artworks, and if she did talk it was to say she was busy. I was living there next to her and missing her more than I had when I was at university and she was still at high school, hundreds of miles away.

'I made a ridiculous amount of noise the night I left. I even revved the car when I backed out of the drive way. She never even moved from staring at her canvas!'

'I think, as much as you say she doesn't, that she does indeed still love you, Helios.' Endymion heard a defeated sigh on the other end of the phone.

'But this sort of thing, it happens sometimes. Serena and I have been through it enough, when you forget to wave each other off in the morning; or don't have breakfast together it just grows, and it's hard to get all the pieces back together, in the right order, and it hurts like hell.'

'I just don't know if I want to try anymore…if …I don't think I'm strong enough to love her, again, just to watch it fall apart, to watch it end the same. I miss her, and I want her, and I need her, but I just can't see how it could work out. Maybe we just weren't meant to be. Maybe it was never meant to work. Maybe we should have listened to the universe instead of fighting it.'

'Have you tried everything? And I mean everything?' His father-in-law's voice was reprimanding, but to a fatherless man, it was just what was needed.

'I've tried for years. But I never knew what to say, or how to broach the subject of this distinct nothingness our marriage had become. All I could do was watch and wait and hope and pray, but nothing worked, so I just packed my things and walked out the door. She never even noticed I was gone until this morning.'

'She's been screeching your name out at the top of her lungs for the last two hours, you know. Screaming that she loves you; that she's sorry; that she needs you; that she didn't know, and if she had she would have tried. But it's up to you, if you've tried everything, and it really does seem like there is absolutely nothing left, then just tell me, right here, right now, so she's got someone with her when it happens.'

There was that pause again, that hateful, horrid pause, and then the tone of Helios's voice dropped and he whispered into the phone, 'Can I speak to her?'

Endymion smiled when he heard those five words, it meant there was something, no matter how small, that was left. And it meant he was willing to give it another try.

'I'll just go get her,' Endymion chuckled as he stepped back inside.

Then the phone went quiet. But it was a peaceful silence. It was soft and gentle and waxing with anticipation. His breath caught in his throat when he heard the raw voice of the woman he loved.

'Helios, I'm so sorry!' Serenity went to speak but burst into another bout of tears, sobbing and sniffing and snorting into the phone.

'Please, please stop crying. I'm sorry I said the things I did before. I just couldn't take the nothing that stood between us. And it seemed the harder I tried the bigger the gap grew. I probably didn't help the matter, really, not when I think about it, and I don't love you any less Serenity, I never have. It was just hard and I didn't know what else to do.' His voice petered out as his eyes watered. 'I still love you just the same.'

'I still love you too, Helios, and I'm so, so sorry. I didn't realise, you know, that we'd become like this. God, I didn't even realise you were gone until your secretary rang. I didn't realise the keys and your ring were here, or when you weren't here that first night. Last night I made dinner and sat there waiting for you — '

'You made dinner? What did you cook?'

It was two sentences, nothing more, nothing less, but it was the beginning of a conversation, and maybe, just maybe the end of their differences and indifferences.

'Lemon pepper squid, and — '

'The house is still standing?' They both laughed, relieved at the music of each other's voices.

'_And_…what I was going to say before I got rudely interrupted was that I had this image in my head, we weren't speaking and I thought there was some young bimbo that had replaced me, and I just wanted to show you what you were missing. I wish I had rung you now. I was going to, you know, leave some disgusting message on your phone in a sultry voice like I used to when you first started teaching. I thought that'd show the stupid blond!' Serenity cradled the phone against her ear, smiling like a besotted teenager at the sound of her husband's voice. God, how she had missed the timbre of that voice over the last few years!

'Believe me Serenity, there is no alive that could ever replace you. I'm sorry that was the impression you were getting.' Helios lips were steadily turning into a smile; they grew even wider when he heard his beloved wife's voice again.

'Do you still want to get a divorce or should we try again?'

'I only wanted it because I thought that was what you wanted.'

'I don't want a divorce, Helios — I just want you.'

There was a lapse of time, a moment where no one talked, but it wasn't deafening, and it wasn't frightening and it didn't signal the end of anything. In fact, it didn't signal anything at all. Because it was nothing, it was just silence simple and uncomplicated honest silence.

'Come with me. Not that you can come with me, I'm already here. Come to Paris. Come and we'll just talk and eat and drink and sleep and make love until we're too exhausted to move, and then we'll sleep and just be together. Man and wife; second Honeymoon. I don't want a divorce, I just want the woman I love — I just want you, my maiden.'

'I'll book the earliest flight I can get.' Another moment of that redundant silence, and a small giggle reverberated over the line, 'Wait, why on earth did you pick Paris if you were running away from me? Why on earth did would you pick Paris?' There was laughter in her voice again. 'I practically lived there for three years with the second exhibition.'

'It was the first available international flight.'

'For a Philosophy professor you certainly make some really poorly calculated choices,' she giggled, and it was that impish girly laughter he hadn't heard since before they were engaged, and that bubbly, excited, intoxicating sound almost completely undid him right there.

'You know, the entire time, when I wasn't missing you, I was wishing you were here. I'm not entirely sure where here is, but I know its cost me a small fortune for a rather grandiose room, which is very much in need of someone with whom I can enjoy it with. I never stopped loving you, you know.'

Serenity just smiled into the phone for a moment, 'The feeling is mutual. VERY, very mutual! Look, I'm on dad's phone, so I'm going to go. I'll just get him to drive me to JFK on his way back home, it's not like it's out of the way for him. I can't wait to see you Helios. You know, I kind of feel like a blushing bride all over again, mom's even laughing at me.'

'Well then, I guess there's really only one thing I can say to that: I can't wait to make love to you my sweet, my maiden, my wife!'

Serenity smiled at the memory. Those were the words Helios had whispered into her ear after they'd spoken their vows as man and wife. She'd tried her hardest not to blush when he rubbed his nose against her ear and caressed the small of her back, but then he leaned in and whispered _that_ into her ear in a raspy, husky voice. She could feel excitement bubbling up from within when she handed the phone over to her mother and ran upstairs to pack. Yanking her leather carry-on satchel out of the top of their closet and flung every bit of lacy, flimsy, silky lingerie she owned into it; whether or not they still fitted she didn't care. She grabbed her silk bathrobe, and his, because it was still hanging on its hook in their bathroom and a single change of clothing. She didn't expect they'd be doing much outside if it was anything like their first honeymoon. She showered and threw on a pair of comfortable, worn jeans, and a wine coloured sweater she still fitted into from her college days.

Serenity nervously fussed the entire way to New York, sitting in the back of her father's Mercedes, with her little sister and a leather bag full of silk and lace and her passport and credit cards. She had thought about taking Helios's wedding ring with her, but had instead decided to take hers off, and thought maybe, they could get new bands while they were in Paris. Rings that were nicer than the simple bands they'd been able to afford as students. But it didn't matter, as long as she had him, and as long as her stomach stopped lurching at the thought of him.

It was like the first time she drove from New York to Cambridge to surprise him with a visit. She was filled to the brim with fear and anticipation and dread and infatuation and was absolutely terrified about how he'd respond. She didn't know whether he'd crack and start yelling at her for being irresponsible, telling her she should care more about her studies, or if he'd melt like butter at the sight of her, stealing her away into the night to claim her as his own. His actual response had been somewhere in the middle. He was upset that she hadn't told him she was coming, and frustrated that she was so carefree about school, but he was overjoyed that she was there. They spent the night at the beach, under the stars, after a however long drive, just kissing and cuddling and whispering _I love you_ and _never leave me_.

They didn't have any other cares in the world at those moments, just each other and all the love they felt. And at that moment, where Helios was, laying on a bed in Paris smiling at the memories of his wife, and Serenity's sitting on the leather seat of her father's car, both were thinking that the only thing that mattered was that they still loved each other. That even if it was hard, it might have just been worth another try.

A blush crept across her cheek as Serenity's father kissed her goodbye and put her on the flight that would take her half way across the world to where her husband was waiting. Endymion had said he'd needed to see his little girl off, even though his little girl was in fact thirty one, and had been married for nearly eleven years. She took her seat and pulled out a sketch pad and a pen and settled in for the next eight hours — the longest eight hours of her life.

She thought about her husband and their wedding and their three year honeymoon period, but then Helios was working longer hours and at home less and she was getting more attention nationally with her artworks: requests for exhibitions, then unexpectedly her artwork became an international success and she had less time for everything. She dropped out of grad school when she got offered floor space at MOMA complete with a commission for six pieces. Every day after she was at home listening to angry music and drinking to get into right sort of funk she needed to paint. Helios would come home and kiss her as he walked past on his way to the kitchen, then he'd reach out as he walked past again but ultimately he'd sit on his arm chair in the corner of the room, reading. She had thought he was ignoring her. But he wasn't. He was letting her paint, letting her do and be what she needed to. Her brain almost stopped completely when she realised she had misread a lot of the things he had said or done. Excitement swelling within her at the thought of seeing the man she hadn't seen in three days, although, he was actually the husband she hadn't seen in the last seven years. Serenity even became jittery and bouncy as she tried her hardest to remain still while the plane touched down on a runway in a foreign country, preparing for the moment that could change her life forever if things weren't as smooth as she dreamed they would be.

She tried to imagine how he'd look, what he was wearing, whether or not he'd be smiling when she stopped in her tracks and stared into the eyes of a tired silvery haired man with shining, teary topaz-hazel orbs. She threw her bag onto the ground and ran to her awaiting husband, all thoughts otherwise forgotten, except that she would kiss him as soon as she could, and be in his arms, and hear his voice, and whisper his name and run her fingers through his hair and kiss him some more.

Helios embraced her as soon as she was within arms' reach, kissing her measure for measure when she captured his face with her hands and his lips with her own. His hands were all over her. In her hair, on her skin, memorising the touch and the feel of the woman he'd yearned for so over the past few years. Her lips never left his, even when he pulled away for air; she remained holding onto him, planting butterfly kisses all over his face, whispering that she didn't need to breathe as long as she had him. That she was sorry and stupid and hated it all and needed him.

They walked hand in hand to the hotel, embracing and kissing when they stopped to wait for traffic. Helios's arm was securely around Serenity's waist and he had no intention of relinquishing his grasp until they were together in his hotel room. The receptionist looked at him with a confused expression when he walked through the doors holding the hands of a woman and kissing her ardently in the foyer, he simply yelled "my wife" in a proud, delighted voice. The receptionist smiled, nodding her head, and altered his details to ensure it was indeed two people in room 403, not one.

Serenity pulled Helios down towards her when they stood in the elevator, on their own, and kissed him with all the passion she could muster.

When they first got married it was chaste and childish kisses she'd bestowed upon her new husband at the young age of twenty, because she couldn't wait and he didn't want to wait anymore. They'd been dating since she was thirteen, anyway.

But now, she wasn't worried or concerned about what he might think, and she didn't care about propriety, she just wanted her husband: the desperate, hungry want that she'd denied for years.

He kicked the door closed behind him before they stumbled across the room and fell onto the bed, Serenity's top already flying across the room among bouts of laughter and giggles.

* * *

><p>They'd make love that night, in the lavish room of a hotel somewhere in the middle of Paris with the Eiffel Tower illuminated in the distance. They'd laugh and talk and whisper and moan and want and need and satiate the hunger they had both felt for so long, but had never heard, because of the noise that surrounded them. Then they'd sleep, and one of them would wake, and remember the hurt and the pain, and lean into the other and whisper the secrets of their heart. They'd both cry and they'd both ache and they'd both want each other more than they ever had in their lives, but closing that gap would be hard.<p>

They'd make promises of forever knowing forever might not come, and they'd mean it when they whispered it, in that honest way, knowing that forever was harder than the wish or the dream. And they'd kiss and let their bodies entangle themselves in a dance as old as time, and they'd know that, when tomorrow came, because it would — it was inevitable — that they could smile, and kiss, and cuddle, and take their vows, and start all over again. Because when tomorrow came, forever would mean forever, if they could make it mean that, and work at it. Forever wouldn't mean maybe, someday if they prayed hard enough.

When tomorrow came Helios could lean down and kiss his wife's cheek gently, and leave a trail of butterfly kisses down her neck, and nuzzle his way up to her ear and whisper that the only thing he wanted to do was to make passionate, never-ending love to her. And if he did Serenity would smile and return the lingering kiss he'd leave on her mouth with fervour, because really, all she had ever wanted was him. Not an empty home or an estranged husband or a silence that started off as a forgotten "I love you" and a misplaced goodnight kiss. She had only ever wanted him, and now, that silence was gone, and the only silence that would remain was the one that would be broken by moans of passion and cries of ecstasy. And then one day, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not sometime next week, maybe not in a year, but someday there would be a strength in their silence; a love and devotion that was impenetrable, and it wouldn't end anytime soon after it began, and they'd love it and adore it and watch it grow. And the silence, that painful, appalling, abhorrent quiet that had surrounded them would leave and never return. Because their love would have broken it; their love would have healed it; and their love would have made them whole and completed their lives as much as love only can.

And tomorrow was a new day, and she'd wake him when breakfast arrived and they'd eat and talk and shower together and dress and hold hands and walk the streets of Paris. She'd tell him she wanted a new wedding ring and he'd find a boutique jeweller and buy her whatever she wanted, purchase himself a matching band. They'd walk into a chapel and bribe a priest and they'd try and understand him as they took their vows again. They'd laugh and giggle and smile and kiss and talk and walk back to their hotel room and drink wine and eat dinner and start all over again.

She'd straddle him and show him what he'd been missing all these years and he'd love upon her like an infatuated teenage boy spending the night with his first love. They'd whisper and talk, and they'd fall asleep in each other's arms, together, in the same bed, his lips pressed against her ear as if he were telling her he loved her in her dreams, and her head burrowed into his chest, love and peace washing over her at the sound of the lullaby of his heartbeat and his soft breathing. And then next week they'd fly home, whispering and mocking the romantic comedy neither of them could understand. He'd remember to call the college dean when they landed, and they'd fly from New York to Burlington and pick up his car, and they'd chuckle all the way back to Boston: joking and laughing about the extra week they had to spend together on their second honeymoon because of two slashed tires and a windscreen that needed to be replaced.

They'd get home and they'd smile at the mosaic on the steps and laugh at the paint-splattered carpet and cry over the memories they shared. They'd sleep in the guest room together at Helios's request because he'd say he just wanted to be enveloped by her body and her scent and her everything and she'd cry as they kissed goodnight.

The next day they'd rip up the carpet and pick up the curtains and the Persian rug and they'd decorate the living room together, then, well into the night, they'd fill the decadent room with scented candles and they'd throw the merlot and burgundy coloured rugs down over the Persian, and they'd toss the gold velvet pillows at each other and they'd make love to the sound of her favourite music, not his, and not Rachmaninov. He'd go back to work the following week, but he'd drive home on his lunch breaks, where time permitted, to be with her. He'd make sure he wasn't taking any evening classes, and she'd make dinner and pour them each a glass of the wine they'd bought in Paris. He'd shower with her and they'd climb into bed together, and kiss, and snuggle and smile into each other's touch.

They'd make love most nights, and wake up still with an insatiable thirst for each other. He'd eat breakfast with her, and she'd walk him out to his car and wrap her arms around him and kiss him passionately in their drive way, their elderly neighbours scoffing and gasping as his hand would rest on the small of her back, or lower, and pull her flush against him, causing them both to smile or moan, which made those same neighbours flush crimson and scramble back indoors. Then he'd leave for work and she'd paint.

She'd paint pictures of love and happiness and rainbows of hope, and they'd hold a place in her heart that none of her other work ever had. In the summer, when Helios was on vacation, he'd buy new palings and fix the fence, and they'd paint in together, and they'd laugh as they smeared paint on each other and left trails of scarlet and sienna across the lawn.

In winter, her family would come up for Christmas that year and they'd tell them their news then, and her father would be proud and clucky and her mother would be all excited and jittery, her sister screaming nonsensically at the prospects of finally becoming an aunt. Serenity and her husband would just hold hands over her small, waxing abdomen, and know that this path hadn't been easy, it hadn't been simple, but they'd made it through, and they were more in love than they'd ever been before. And maybe, just maybe, that made it all worth it.

* * *

><p>"<em>A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness; but still will keep a bower quiet for us, and a sleep full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing a flowery band to bind us to the earth, spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth of noble natures, of the gloomy days, of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways made for out searching: yes, in spite of all, some shape of beauty moves away the pall from our dark spirits."<em>

_Keats_


End file.
